Wandlore, or lack thereof
by Uovoc
Summary: None of the characters in the Chrestomanci books use wands. In fact, they probably wouldn't know what to do if they had one.


"A wand?" said Cat.

"Yes," said Chrestomanci. "Apparently they're very popular in some worlds. I bought this one off a fellow when I was passing through part of Twelve."

Cat stared at the narrow box. _What do I need one for_, he wondered, but he supposed Chrestomanci might be unhappy if he said that. "Er, thank you."

"Well, why don't you give it a go?" suggested Chrestomanci. "See what it can do."

Cat undid the string and lifted off the lid. Inside was a rather unassuming wooden rod.

"Eleven and a half inches, elm, core of unicorn hair, on the stiff side," supplied Chrestomanci helpfully. "The very best quality, or so I was assured by Mr., er, Cauliflower."

Cat laughed. "Cauliflower?"

Chrestomanci gave him a look. "Perhaps he was called something else. Go on, then."

Cat picked up the wand in his left hand. He felt a bit foolish, although he didn't see how you could not, wielding a knitting needle. Nothing happened. It didn't suddenly glow, or fuse to his fingers. "What should I do?"

"Well, Mr. Gerrymander made sparks shoot out the end. They can also do serious magic, though."

Sparks, thought Cat, shutting his eyes in concentration, Gold and red and silvery. A sudden warmth flowed up his arm. He opened his eyes hurriedly. "Did I do anything?"

"Very pretty," said Chrestomanci, extinguishing his dressing gown. "But I think the sparks are supposed to come out of the wand, not your hand."

Cat tried again, but the same thing happened. He pointed it at a candlestick and tried to make it float. It didn't. He pointed it at Chrestomanci (who jumped) and told it to send a gust of wind at him. A breeze did blow through, but Chrestomanci said no, that was him doing it his ordinary way.

"Maybe Mr. Saunders will know how it works," said Cat. They trooped off to look for him.

Michael Saunders was in his study trying busily to convince Millie that no, a personal tailor was _not_ necessary, thank you for your generosity. "I assure you, my suits fit me very well, I don't think—Oh, hello, sir."

"Michael, do you know how to use one of these?" asked Chrestomanci. Cat held out the wand.

"Ah, those. Never put much stock in them. Don't see why one should depend on a piece of wood to do magic. What if you lost it? You'd be hopeless."

"We're pretty hopeless with the wand, anyway," said Cat. He waved it around, just to show him.

"Hm. I believe you have to say something while you do that," said Mr. Saunders. "A spell or incantation."

"But you don't say spells, you just do them," protested Millie.

Mr. Saunders shrugged. "You have to go about things differently with wands."

"Mr. Pelicancer didn't say anything about this in his shop," said Chrestomanci.

"He probably thought you already knew. You didn't mention that you were from another world, did you?"

"No. So what should Cat say?"

"I don't actually know the specifics," admitted Mr. Saunders.

"Maybe he can just try something that sounds like a spell and see if it works," said Millie. "Like 'cumulonimbus!' "

"That," noted Chrestomanci, "is a type of cloud. Still, it won't hurt."

Nor did it helpk.

"Perhaps you could go back," said Millie wryly, "and purchase a spell-book."

"No, it isn't worth it. That was a waste, then," Chrestomanci said disgustedly. Cat heard him mutter as he walked away, "Elfhander's Fine Wands, indeed!"

That afternoon, Cat wandered around the gardens muttering words that sounded spell-like, hoping he might get lucky. "Sestina. Rhododendron. _Cogito Ergo Sum_." From a distance, the other Castle children watched him curiously.

"He's gone mad, I tell you," said Roger sagely. "That much magic isn't healthy for a young lad. Remember his sister?" Julia remembered all too well. She and Roger shared a dark look.

From her limited past experience and what she had heard, Janet had gathered that the girl had been a horror. "But I'm his sister, too, sort of, and I'm perfectly fine."

"Nine people's lives, one of them's bound to be a nutter."

"He looks a bit like he's conducting a symphony," observed Julia.

"Drunk on power. Next thing you know, he'll be terrorizing the countryside on Syracuse."

"_You_ lot are being silly. Come on, let's find out what he's up to," said Janet. The other two hung back a bit, but she dragged them with her.

"What are you doing?" asked Janet conversationally.

Cat showed them the wand.

"What," said Roger, "is that?"

"Um. A magic wand. They're supposed to be able to do all sorts of things."

"So what can it do?" asked Julia, interested.

"Nothing, at the moment. We don't know the right kind of spells. Chrestomanci seemed awfully disappointed."

"Have you tried bibbidi bobbidi boo?" asked Janet, half joking. Who knew, it might actually work, here.

They stared at her as if she were missing half her wits.

"There you go," Roger said sagely to Julia, "Runs in the family."

"You stop that, Roger Chant," Janet shot back. "On second thought, there's the car, so you probably wouldn't want a pumpkin coach anyway. Unless you were Joe," she added.

"What _are_ you talking about?" wondered Julia incredulously, while Cat looked from one face to another in bewilderment.

"You know? Cinderella?"

"And what," Roger finally got in, "does Cinderella have to do with anything?"

"Well," tried Janet, "the fairy godmother waves her wand, and—Bibbidi bobbidi boo!"

They regarded her strangely.

"There's no fairy godmother in that story," said Roger. "Cinderella does it herself, only she's terrible at magic, so the spell only holds until midnight."

"Maybe your world's stories were different," Cat suggested. "Because we don't have wands here, either. Chrestomanci got this one in another part of Twelve."

"They should have included a manual with the thing, at least," said Roger, examining it.

Come to think of it, there had been some writing on the underside of the lid. He conjured the box from where he had left it in his room. They huddled over it excitedly, but the writing only described the wand: elm, core of unicorn hair, and the rest.

"There's no help for that, I guess," Cat resigned. Chrestomanci had wasted his money after all. "I don't really need it, anyway."

Janet held the lid and description, deep in thought. "Did Chrestomanci happen to say who he bought it from?"

"Not exactly," Cat shook his head. "You know how he is. He called the shop owner 'Cauliflower' once."

Her eyes lit up, but not with mirth. "Do you think…it could have been 'Ollivander'? "

"It was," affirmed Roger. They looked at him in surprise. "What? It's on the bottom of the box."

"Then it's him! The same one!" exclaimed Janet. "You see, in my world, there was this book, well, a lot of books actually, everyone read them, and they must have actually been about one of the other worlds, and Ollivander was the wandmaker, and, oh, _I know the spells!"_


End file.
